Crown of Thorns
by Antheria
Summary: Years he's been searching, scouring lands for the woman he would make his queen and finally, he found her only to lose her once more. But now he's found her again and this time, he won't let go. As a web of lies and deceit are spun before a Heartfilia heir, watch as she stumbles into thread after thread, looking for a new family. But in this gray world, who's there left to trust?
1. Perfection

_**Hello! Antheria here to welcome you to my very first Fanfiction, with the original concept adopted from JSHNgirl as she gave me her story 'Time after time'. Please note that this story will be very AU. In other words, this story will take place in an Alternate Universe of my design. I have made many changes and hope you will enjoy this first chapter. Your feedback is necessary for me to make this story better, chapter by chapter, so please review if you can.**_

 _ **Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail.**_

* * *

They say that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, which in my situation would be exactly the case. It wasn't my fault I looked so much like her, so much like mother. Some would even say that we looked more like siblings, as funny as it was. She always took amusement from that. Mother would give them a gentle upturning of her lips, it was a smile. Chocolate brown eyes, glossy blonde hair, a soft face and fair skin, which was how she looked like, how people said I looked like. I begged to differ.

While we were similar in many ways, paying closer attention to me instead of showering my mother in empty compliments proved otherwise.

Her face was soft, mine happened to be a tad bit more angular. Her bright blonde hair was perfectly sleek, straight and easy to style. My hair was a shade lighter, curling at the ends and having a tendency to stick up in directions when I wasn't paying attention; she'd always mention how hard it was to wrangle it into a proper braid or bun—or any hairstyle for that matter during one of the more formal parties. Her eyes were a light chocolate brown; mine was dark amber, the gentle sloping of my nose against her cute button one.

She and I were similar, that I could admit. But I wasn't her. I didn't even look like her!

I couldn't see why my father was so upset with me; I couldn't help but be born this way. Why would he avoid me, despite all those differences? Was it the frustration that he couldn't bear to remind himself of what he could've had if she hadn't died, or was it grief rearing its ugly head once more to overlap her face on mine?

Mother died young, I knew that was a fact. Most people lived over the age of 28; she died as she turned 28. Why couldn't Father accept that? I did. It was hard, but I did.

He should've been stronger _(for me)_ , he should've been more open-minded _(for me)_. He kept his eyes closed, shielding his face from the bitter truth his gentle soul wouldn't have been able to handle and pulled the curtains around him to envelop his mind in the safety of darkness. But everyone knows that something's always lurking in the dark, watching, waiting and yearning to strike. It doesn't always have to be monsters, demons or anything of the sinister type at all.

But the moment Father shut the light out, those monsters and demons rising from the blood on his hands poured in from obscurity, which the sun once kept at bay. They all fed on his feast of a mind until Father was festering from the inside out, until he was rotting, until he started to reek and until he soaked his hands in even more (yours) blood.

He was weak and I was strong, nothing would change that fact anymore. It was a dog-eat-dog world out there where the weak are meat and where the strong eat.

No more hugs and kisses, no more home-cooked meals and well wishes and no more trips to the market place in ignorant bliss as the perfect life I once had cracked beneath the weight of the world like glass.

Only the cold furrows left behind by the claws adorning his hands _(that monster called 'Father')_ , only the tearful concerto made from the dancing of ivory keys, only the ear splitting silence and reminiscent whispers of nostalgia flitting by, only the feel of ice and hardcover books left behind.

A home wasn't a home without its light; the estate wasn't my home without its light.

I hadn't realized that soon enough as the repercussions of fresh bruises every step of my feet across the forest floor and the silver old scars tingling from phantom pain reminded me.

Under the cover of dark where no light reached, beneath the ever-green canopy of the trees to the dying frost of winter and accompanied by the cacophony of wildlife, jingling keys and the hollow crunch of fallen leaves and twigs, I, Lucy Heartfilia am finally breaking through the bars that has barred me from happiness for years with a large pouch of jewels weighing a pound in my satchel, four precious friends at my side, all the things I hold dear to me, a change of clothes and a canteen of water. I was prepared.

But that didn't mean it was any less daunting for a 9-year old like me.

 _(Run, run, run or the monster will catch you…)_

* * *

Mother's death hit us hard, even the servants and residents of the estate felt the wave of depression that seemed to roll over acres of our family-owned land.

And even if I was hit harder than them all, Father was hit the hardest.

What was once a jolly, chipper, charismatic if slightly clumsy man had turned a complete one-eighty, wronging the world as it wronged him. Blessings turned curses, happiness turned sadness. Everything became superficial as soon as the body of Mother was lowered into the dark, rich, earthy soil of the ground.

If Mother was the sun, then Father was the moon.

Without the moon borrowing light from the sun, it would dim. Without the sun, everything would die.

The sun was very, very important.

Mother was very, very important.

Though even if something important had been lost, Father still threw another party a month after her passing, he couldn't appear weak to his other rivals or they would peck at his rotting body like the vultures they really are. And in the business world, even something as emotional as grieving for your wife was considered a weakness.

Everything sparkled that chilling November night. From the well maintained marble floor to the silver dishes to the accessories on women. My lilac gown was made from only the best, white frills, lavender lace and sinfully soft fabric I can't seem to place a name to, even my white Mary-janes were spick and span, not a single scuff of dirt on their shining surfaces. Certainly a large contrast to my usual attire of a white blouse and a black skirt, I would've worn them if not for Father.

"A girl donned in such casual attire cannot be considered a Heartfilia, especially since said Heartfilia is the premier of another successful future for the lineage."

"Then I must not be your daughter at all."

I was feeling particularly bitter that day since he had forgotten my birthday the night before, though the satisfaction wasn't worth feeling the crack of a whip on my back ten times.

As the night stretched on longer and longer, so did my boredom. Minutes turned hours seemed to pass by at a snail's pace as smartly dressed butlers and maids flit about the large crowd, between tables, to the balcony and up the second floor stairwell serving aperitifs and hors d'oeuvres. Familiar faces approach me in my spot right just out the door, sitting on marble steps gazing out into the garden.

Some sit down for conversation once their trays are safely in the hands of another, others serve me plates of food freshly cooked from the kitchen or nabbed from the buffet table, but most ask me if I wish to return to my room. Being the responsible child I am, I decline.

If Father were to call for me while I wasn't here, there'd only be trouble the next day.

The moon seems to cast a distinct ethereal glow above the light pollution from nearby residences, yawning its way between two large, ever-green forested mountains and reflecting its visage on the seemingly undisturbed surface of the lake as the glittering dust of almost dying stars is sprinkled across the black blanket above. For a time, I stare at the beauty of the scene before lively music leaks out the doors behind me and ruins the serene moment.

'Even when I seek solace, Father's influence seems to find its way to me.' I pause before continuing my train of thought, 'How fitting. Will it be this way even when I leave?'

I was a romantic born into the wrong place, the wrong time and the wrong role. In this world that Father expects me to become queen of, the modernists kill the romantics and are thrown 7-feet below the ground.

Scarily enough, I adapted into the role so perfectly no one but Father seems to notice.

 _(Oh he's turning you into a monster like him…)_

* * *

'Father wasn't Father. He hasn't been Father since the passing of Mother, was I too blind to see?'

"Once more, the heiress bearing the Heartfilia name does not strive for perfection, she is perfection!" Father's voice bellowed throughout the room, even at this distance, it felt as if he could see every twitch of my fingers nervously hovering over piano keys.

'Bullshit' I couldn't help but think after hearing his words.

Under the watchful eye of my two very supportive retainers, I try to ease my nerves, relax my hands and replay the musical piece once more. Keeping my movements light, fast and fluid was the only way to please Father and hired tutor, their scrutinizing gazes bearing deep into my back. As the piece goes on and on, muscle memory kicks in and soon I don't have to think anymore.

"Enough." I can't recognize the voice from the whirlwind of concentration I'm in as the music drowns everything else out. But the voice keeps niggling at the back of my mind like a pesky fly, whose is it? Is it Father's, Teacher's, Elise's or Felicia's?

It doesn't matter.

I keep playing, I still keep my eyes on the piece, I still keep playing, playing, playing. Eager to please, I continue my merry tune.

"Milady, your father along with Sir Lloyd has already left after you restarted; perhaps it's time to take a break."

But I still keep playing, playing, playing. I still want to please Father _(no matter how much of a monster he is)_ , I still want his praise _(no matter how ugly it is)_ , I still want his attention _(Because he's all you have left)_. If I want that, I must be perfect.

"Little princess please," I feel the warmth of Elise's hug engulfing me before I finally hit the last note, her hands cupping my smaller ones, "stop." And the piece comes to an abrupt stop.

Even Felicia sits down beside me and pulls me onto her lap.

"Look at me my little princess, just look," I hear the brunette start as I stare at the hands still cupping mine, carrying both appendages above the white keys. They're not Elise's tan hands anymore, instead they're pale, Felicia's.

"Milady, it's only polite to look at someone in the face when they're talking, why don't you listen to her, hm?"

Hesitantly, I meet Elise's gentle, amethyst gaze with my own. She smiles and pats my head once more.

"I may not look like your Mother to you," she begins, "in fact; I'd never want to be a Mother to you. So forgive me for saying this little princess, because I want to be your big sister instead. I want to protect you, to help you, to love you and to care for you. But how can I possibly protect you from your Father? I can't. So please, let me hold you in my arms a bit longer, let me hear the secrets and thoughts a Mother can't hear, let me do what a big sister is supposed to do and let me be one of your pillars."

Her voice cracked a bit more towards the end before I felt warm water hit the back of my blouse. Felicia said nothing, simply held my hands tighter.

"M-Milady, with all due respect, but I share the same sentiment as Elise. I may have not known you for as long as Elise has, but I still love you as if you were my family. At this point, you most likely already are."

"Felicia, Elise, both of you are so very precious to me, I wouldn't know what to do without you." I felt my throat constrict as I let out my next few words, "But it's because of that love that I can't spread my wings. Please, you must understand. If you must love me then you'll have to let me sort this out on my own. I need to learn how to fight my own fights."

"Very well little princess, if that is what you wish." A small smile appeared on her face, "Just remember that we'll always be here should the need arise. We are your retainers, you can count on us."

"We'd take on the world for you!" Felicia exuberantly added, "We'd do anything for your safety, even if it meant ravaging the entire continent of Fiore!"

'Anything…?' An idea presented itself across my mind, something that might even make them happy as well…now that I know how precious they are to me, I want them to be happy even if the world around them is gray.

"Then if that's the case, I'll need your help to teach me how to fight for myself, just as my Mother had fought, just as you both fight to protect me. If you can do that, maybe you'd be able to be the Big Sisters you want to be."

Taking in their surprised expressions, I can see their hesitance as clear as day. As if they themselves hadn't chosen to bear themselves unto me. After all, I'm only human. I'm entitled to my own requests _(selfishness)_ just as these two are.

'Are you really? You need to be perfect. You can't be human if you need to be perfect,' my mind whispers, '(because humans…are the epitome of imperfection).'

It's Elise who speaks next, eyes narrowed in determination as her lips quirk into a wan smile, "Anything for you darling."

 _(She's lying)_

It's in the following months where father changes the most.

The small chips of ice in his eyes happened to engulf the entirety of his cold, brown orbs, each day became more and more like numb clockwork with the rare 'I love you Lucy' gradually being replaced by 'you're not good enough'. The heiress wasn't sad though, her retainers stubbornly stood by her side as they kept their promise.

The voluptuous amethyst eyed beauty, Elise, happened to be quite proficient in terms of casting spells from various grimoires as well as wielding axes, while the flaxen haired maiden, Felicia, was the adept knife thrower. By her request, they both taught Lucy their forte in the dead of night, fear of prying eyes becoming paranoia as they resolutely trained Lucy, who was already quite physically fit for her age and upbringing. It helped that they happened to be quite good company.

Small changes in the routine that is my life.

I'm in the middle of target practice with Felicia when it happens, "Milady!" Is what I hear before she pushes me out of the way of an incoming arrow. The cobblestone ground is still slick and muddy form the rain that fell a few hours prior, but that doesn't help soften my landing at all. I can see the wooden shaft of an arrow inches beside my head and suddenly, everything seems clearer.

"F-Felicia?" I stutter out

"Milady please stay down!" I can feel her standing over me, the tip of her long maids uniform brushing my arm, "It's not safe yet, just a little longer."

I know I shouldn't look, but the strong smell of metal in the air gets the better of my obedience as I look up and see the tip of an arrow sticking out of Felicia's soldier. The tip is coated in blood as the wood is being gradually saturated in red, the color sticking out like a sore thumb in the white of her apron.

"Felicia you're hurt!" I gasp out as I try to stand, "I-I'll go ask for help!"

"Milady you must stay down until it's safe!" I look back and see her sheathing knives in one hand and shuriken in the other,

I shake my head and ignore her, hastily standing up and running back towards the house, "Don't worry I'm a pretty fast runner so it'll only take a second to get Eli-"

I was stupid.

"Milady get down!" This time it's more urgent as I'm tackled to the ground by Felicia once more, the throwing knives and shuriken in her hands falling to the ground with a sharp clang as three more dull thuds follow. This time, the air seems almost heavy with the smell of metal.

A familiar breathy voice whispers into my ear, "You're okay...that's...good." Dread fills me as I put a face to that voice before a cough followed by the feeling of a liquid landing on my ear makes me turn my head.

"Felicia..." My eyes widen a fraction

"I'm glad you're okay...Milady...I don't know what I would do if you'd gotten hurt." She coughs once more, this time, I notice her steadily paling complexion and the way her electric blue eyes seem to dim to a darker hue.

"F...Felicia you're-" a choked sob makes its way out of my constricting throat as tears bubble up from my eyes, Felicia seems to notice and musters up the strength to wrap her right arm around me.

"Shh...this doesn't matter. I don't matter; as long as you're alive my world will keep spinning. The limits of what a maid wouldn't do for her master have yet... to be tested." She seems to grin, her physical disposition not reflecting at all on the quirk of her lips, "You've given me a life, now it's time to return it. Feel free to take anything you want from my belongings Milady, they've always been yours to...be...gin...ith." Her azure eyes struggle to stay open before they close, "...remember...wh..at we talked about..."

They're her final words and I can't help but burn them into my heart. Because as much as I want to believe that this is all a blood-stained, ugly dream that my mind conjured up, that would be lying and mother discouraged lying. Lies may just be pretty words sugar coated with an extra layer of honey, but whoever you feed them to might just get diabetes instead and die.

My heart skips a bit for a second at the implications my mind makes, but all I want is to just wake up and see the sunlight and see Felicia standing by my bedside holding a tray of morning tea with Camilla off to the side rummaging through my closet. I want to see mother sitting on a bench watching the gardener prune the trees as she reads a book and father confidently walking down the hallways with a bounce in his step and a small smile on his face. I want to hear the gentle lilt to mother's voice as she sings a lullaby and the feeling of Felicia's hands combing through my hair in the morning, I want to hear Camilla's tinkling laugh whenever I do something she thinks is funny (when really it's not) and taste Fathers cooking whenever I can get him in the kitchen.

I want to wake up from this nightmare and feel alive, but as metal plunges through my hand and something lifts Felicia's still warm-alive, my mind whispers into my ear, body off me I know this all can't be something that happens in one of my dreams because it hurts.

It hurts more than the sharp sting of Father's _(can't be father can't be father; monster, monster!)_ belt on my back whenever my efforts don't meet his expectations, it hurts more than Father's _(are you sure that's him?)_ hits whenever he smells of that dreaded liquid.

It hurts more than that monsters teeth and claws in my father's flesh digging through my life that is a mess. Then, I scream.

The blade twists through my flesh easily, not unlike a knife cutting through the cakes mother used to bake, "Ah it's such a shame I'd have to leave a mark on one so young." The voice is smooth and slick, distinctly male as it sounds clear as day to me through the wails of pain scratching it'd way out of my throat.

"I don't regret it though," The strangers hand roughly grabs my neck and lifts me up, coal black eyes staring back into my amber eyes. "Especially since you have such a pretty face."

I start to panic, eyes wide and question running through my mind. My breath is ragged and my hand is numb, sluggishly bleeding out and onto the ground. "W-Why...?" I manage to croak out a sentence, but my throat still hurts from all that screaming. I'm looking straight back into his eyes now, fat tears rolling down as the pressure on my neck gradually increases.

"Oh, are you in pain?" He doesn't say much, but I can see his eyes dancing with mirth. "Don't worry the next part will be much more..." He trails off, "pleasurable." He says the next word as if it's sacred, as if the implications of that single word would bring good to many.

To me, it sounds as if it would bring me hell instead.

I'm not stupid, I'm not dumb.

'He's going to rape you, as the man in the book raped thousands of others.'

"N-No please! Please," I'm desperate now, "anything but that, anything!" My breaths are heavy as the tears come once more, my hands are trembling and now I'm struggling.

"Tsk troublesome little girl, you know what that means, huh?" He's single handedly keeping me at bay from hitting me as the pressure on my neck increases, "don't worry it'll be over soon. I bet you won't even feel it..."

Then the world turns black.

* * *

 _ **End of Chapter One. Apologies for the awful writing technique, still working on that.**_

 _ **On another note, vote on the poll on my profile for what pairing you want for this story. The deadline wont be for a long time, but I'll definitely be watching the poll.**_


	2. Freedom

**_My most sincere apologies at the late chapter my lovely viewers, a virus took hold of my computer and I had to get it fixed, resulting in my data and files being wiped. Everything, including chapter 2 of this story, had no back-up. I had to type it all over again. Coupled with school freeloading everything on my sorry person before the semester break, I was a tad bit stressed and thus decided to relax. Please don't kill me._**

 ** _On another note, can I say how surprised I am at how many people have started following this story at its first chapter? My, I'm starting to feel a bit spoiled. I'm happy to see you find this interesting enough to keep tabs on, and though I don't know whether or not this is a normal occurrence, I can't help but be flattered._**

 ** _Some of you have also asked me how often this story will be updated, due to my fluctuating schedule, I will update whenever I can. I originally planned to update this weekly, but looking at my planner, I'm not sure if I can keep my promise. So whenever I can it is._**

 ** _Warning: Mentions of rape, pedophilia, murder and torture_**

 ** _Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail_**

* * *

He was right; I'd never woken up during one of his sessions with me.

Yes, I could feel the pains and aches that pervaded my body whenever the drug he injected into me decided to wear off, when I could feel my blood dripping down my back from new cuts, when I could feel dried sweat all over my body and a foul taste in my mouth. Yes, I could see the after effects of the act from the bruises on various parts of my body to the dried saliva around my nipples down to the crusted white fluid in-between my thighs. Yes, I could smell the heady scent in the air upon my awakening, but not once had I woken up in the middle of the act. And for that, I thanked my lucky stars that the man _(depraved monster that he is)_ who had done this to me knew of small mercies.

I'd lost track of how long this had been going on, the routine the same thing everyday whenever I woke up. A wash in the tub with his hands all over me as the scent of cheap soap filled the air, the faded blue towel smelling of detergent wrapping around me and odd costumes for his pleasure forced unto my battered body , a fragrant meal as he spooned every last bit of food into my abused mouth, an injection of that murky white liquid before it was lights out all over again, before I woke up once again in his arms, in his bed, with a new wound on my back bound to scar.

I was tired.

I was tired, scared and angry. I was tired of the same thing happening everyday, of my helplessness at it all, of my twisted life in a twisted world. I was scared of the moment he decided to forgo and do the deed while I was conscious, I was scared of when it would happen. It was not if, it was when. And I was angry. So, so, so terribly angry at all the injustices the world served to me upon a silver platter, dishing every punishment out to me with no small amount of mercy. Angry at the injustice of it all, I, a girl who had done nothing wrong but love her family and yearn for the strength needed to catch freedom by its wings, raped, tortured and abused by her family, by the people around her, by all but everyone excluding her retainers. Or was it retainer now?

And Felicia, my poor sister—buried beneath the ground, rotting away as maggots, bacteria and all sorts of unsavory creatures lay their hands on her once breathing _(alive)_ body. An angel that had fallen from heaven, a woman who had shown me nothing but kindness from the very beginning reduced to a shield when they sought me for my blood, reduced to a festering corpse within a coffin because of me.

Mother died of an illness because of me, Father was eaten by monsters whole because of me.

 _They all died because of me._

I still remember Felicia as she soared through the air, bright yellow lights tracking her every flip, every maneuver and every smile and wave to the crowd in-between the hanging metal bars as light reflected off her sequined leotard. She was a mortal human putting her life at risk for the entertainment of others, for the thrill of each jump, for the feel of wind rushing past her. I admired her for it, for all of it. She had the courage to travel where others would not for fear of injury, she had the courage to flip through the air and jump to heights others could not reach, she had the ability to grab freedom by its wings, if only for a few seconds, while I could only stick to the ground; held down by expectations.

She was made to fly; I was made to drown in the sea of despair the world plunged me into.

And in that moment where I realized what she could do amongst the flashing lights, dancing shadows and cheering people, I tugged at Elise's sleeve and said: "I want her."

Felicia Russo became my final retainer that day.

And on the same day of a different year, was the day she was killed.

That was the day death brought its chains down upon her; that was the day her wings were taken away, all because of the blood coursing through my veins.

These thoughts plagued my mind as I woke in the early hours of morning the night after he finishes with me once more. Firmly pressed against his sweaty chest, I wince as his fingers bring me closer to him, digging into the deep gouges on my back. I hold my breath, _'Is he awake?'_ I wait a minute as my heart pumps faster before wiggling out of his hold and landing on the floor.

Pain flares up my back and arm once more, but I muffle the yelp from my mouth and feel my way to the door across the cold wooden floor, taking note of the sun barely cresting the hills with its light as it slowly climbs higher and higher, bleeding out the colors of a sunrise through the sky. I come across clothes on the floor and grab the closest article I'm sure can cover me and slowly open the door before crawling out quietly and shutting it quietly once more.

' _He'll be up soon, better hurry up.'_

I find my way to the tiled kitchen, my naked form freezing in the morning chill as I wrap my arms closer around myself, rubbing cold spots and releasing a warm puff of breath out upon the palms of my hands. Taking a look around at the entrance, I memorize everything; I commit the memories of this place to my mind one last time because no matter how bad, memories are still memories. The white tiles of the floor to the peeling floral wallpaper stained in _(your)_ red brings back memories of knives, torture and lies. The wooden table with two sets of plateware and cutlery remind me of the times where I was humiliatingly fed like a baby by his hand. I'm brought out of my reverie when a chill hits me, looking down at the article of clothing on-hand, I lift up the shirt I and glance at it, grimacing when I realized that it wasn't a shirt, but the outfit from the day before.

The blue baby doll nightie is as revealing as it was the day before as I slip it on. Frills, ribbons and lace line the fabric swishing behind me as each footstep brings me closer to the kitchen counter, more specifically, the knife rack. A part of me hesitates as my hand inches closer and I can feel a bead of sweat dribbling down my face, ' _Mother said killing is bad…but what can I do_?', I tilt my head down in thought, but as the shadows inch closer and closer, I notice the light creeping in through the window. _(Tick tock, you're running out of time)_

 _'I can't hesitate now, there's no turning back,'_ _(He's going to wake soon)_ I hastily think as I grab the closest knife, not even checking to see if it was sharp, and walk closer towards the bedroom once more, passing by memorabilia and useless knick knacks. A photo frame on the wall catches my eye and I stop for a second, trying to comprehend the man _(your tormentor)_ and what I assumed to be his family surrounding him, though I shake off the guilt crawling up my spine and continue on my way through the plain hallway, ignoring any other things that would've caught my eye. _'Surely Mother would forgive me…',_ I open the door and crawl through the gap before closing it once more, inching closer and closer to the man with snowy white hair and black obsidian eyes, the oddly heavy knife in hand weighing a ton, though I continue walking closer and closer. _(Don't worry, dear Mama will forgive you, you're the victim here)_ Each inch towards the bed over the chestnut floor feels like an hour closer to my death, though it was the man who would die, not I. _(Haha are you so sure? Better take back those words in case you aren't…)_ Suddenly, I'm not so sure, but I steady my resolve and shake off the voice I'd been hearing for 3 long years now.

It's raised over him now, arms shaking and thick satisfaction curling in my gut when my eyes spot what kind of knife I pick out.

It's one of the knives he had used to carve words into my back and arms, the black ink of a tattoo and a multitude of scars. I can see them in front of my eyes, **_rotten and deranged_** carved and inked on my back, **_spoiled_** in cursive letters on the calf of my leg, **_hearts_** and **_stars_** dotting the same piece of flesh, the word **_lucky_** on my collarbone and a dainty **_princess_** on my jawline.

The butcher knife gleams madly as the light of the risen sun beaming in from the window strikes it, reflecting off its surface and onto the man's face. Blue eyes open slowly and widen in fear as they see the tool of their executioner raised over them, coming down with startling force, preparing to split his head open. I'm not sure if my lips are in a smile, though surely that grin I feel on my face isn't real, right? _(Stronger, make sure this monster never stands up again!)_

For once, I agree with the voice at the back of my head.

It comes down with great force, cutting through the top of his head like a ripe watermelon, only stopping when I meet white bone. _(Once more!)_ I bring it back up, preparing to come down once more. This time, I aim for his slim neck. The skin splits open, but I'm met with resistance once again before bringing it back up and slamming it down repeatedly.

 _Smash, smash, smash…_

"I'm tired, I'm tired, I'm tired!" punctuates every hit now, a golden glow _(Magic made to kill this man)_ encasing the blade stained red as it cuts through legs and arms like butter, before finally receding as his intestines spill out of his body, the top half now all the way across the bed.

"I'm just so…tired." I sob out as vomit rushes itself out of my body and onto the floor.

Standing over the body of a mutilated man on a bed stained red wearing lingerie and puking as the smell of death fills the air is how the Rune Knights find me.

* * *

Months later when I'm back in the manor with the scars and tattoos to remind me that my 2 weeks of captivity had really happened, The Monster pushes me even harder, making me compensate for the blemishes and injustices staining my body.

"You're ruined!" He had said, stepping on my bruised form, pressing it down with painful force on the garden floor.

"How could you have let this happen?!" He cried out, snarling and stomping my arm until skin broke and blood welled up.

"You're worthless!" He sneered, kicking me into the lake.

Watching my long hair trail in the water and the streaks of red dance was mesmerizing. If it wasn't for Elise who jumped into the lake a moment later, carrying me out before I could sink deeper and crying over my wellbeing as rage filled her eyes, I was sure I would've died.

"You'll be okay, you'll be just fine my princess…" She had said, kissing and hugging me all the way to the clinic in the servant's residence.

"How could he do this to you? He's your father…" She wondered out loud over the sound of the nurses and doctors clambering this way and that in an attempt to heal me.

"You mean the world to me…oh little princess, I promise this won't happen again, never again." She promised me, pulling me close and cradling my hand in hers.

Funny how I couldn't care about anything anymore after that incident, really, a year ago I'd have given him the world to make him proud of me, but now I couldn't care any less about what he thought of me. So what if he wasn't satisfied with my performance? So what if I was worthless to him? Better injured and alive than safe and dead. As long as Elise was proud of me and as long as I remembered my promise to Felicia, that I would live my life for her, then I wouldn't need anyone or anything else _(They're the only one that matters now)._

* * *

Amber eyes a shade of red darker than they were before stare back up at me as I look at the blade of troll steel, an enchanted throwing knife with others like it that Felicia often used. I'm sitting with Elise on my bed as she helps me clean the objects Felicia meant to give to me as a gift when I was of age, a rag in my hand and a tin of oil beside me.

I lift the blade up to inspect it closer with my eye, noting the runic engravings and the latin text covering the blade

"Elise, are you sure I can have this?" My retainer looks at me from the corner of her eye and puts down the knife she'd been sharpening, another of the same set as the one in my hand.

"Of course, she wanted me to give them to you in case something ever happened." She pats my head and looks at me with serious eyes instead of the usual look of kindness and reaches into the pocket of her apron. I give her an inquisitive look, her lips quirk up once more before handing me a round locket, "Take it." Elise said.

I smiled.

Elise remembered my birthday, and even in death, Felicia remembers it too.

* * *

The sky is crying tears and making puddles of despair as I stand outside with Elise in the muddy garden, trying to catch just a single glimpse of gold amidst the earthy tones and shades of green spreading across the land.

"I can't find them! Elise, please, you have to help me look!" I cry out in desperation as I heave out a pain sob, rummaging through the bushes, dirt and puddles of mud in search of one of my most precious belongings, my golden keys.

"Princess, come inside, I promise I'll find them for you." She says from behind me, holding an umbrella and protecting us from the rain. I glance back at her as my tears mix with the rain, "Promise?" I ask.

I trust her, I trust Elise. She hasn't failed me yet.

"I promise, just go back inside." Elise's arm wraps around me and brings me back inside the manor, "After all," She continues, "Those keys were a gift from your mother, were they not? I promise I'll find them for you."

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Elise. Thank you so very much for what you've done for me."

I hug her and smile as she mumbles sweet nothings into my hair.

That day was the last I heard from her, disappearing the next morning with no trace left behind, everything but a box full of old books and grimoires gone. But as I woke up in the morning and dressed myself, The Monster came knocking at my door and handed me back 3 golden keys before walking away, leaving me with my own thoughts.

It was the final straw.

* * *

 ** _Once again, you have my sincerest apologies. When I posted this Chapter, it was written in it's source code due a reason unknown to me. Also, I tried on rushing this chapter out, though I may edit it later on when I re-read this since I'll be busy the next few days, it depends on what you think of this chapter._**


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